Quite Nice
by cataclysmically starry-minded
Summary: Chapter Three: In which Luna learns that a just friends date to a certain Potion professor's Christmas Party can turn into something decidedly more than friendly in a matter of seconds. HBP compliant.
1. Chapter One

Quite Nice

I do not own Harry Potter nor am I receiving a profit from this story.

A/n: Yes, this is Harry/Luna. Yes, it's fluffy (to a degree). Yes, I made up some words. And, no, I've not gone insane

~

It was the price of individuality, Luna knew, all the humdrum that surrounded her. And they thought she was weird! Always scurrying around in their little routines, her schoolmates, never stopping stare into the sky or twirl sock-less in the shallowest waters of the lake. It was the fate Luna knew, the one she embraced, albeit rather half-heartedly. If truth be told, she was always looking for that someone who would whistle a sonata with her at two-fifty-one in the morning to attract sugar-spun sprites.  She'd never quite found a suitable match, but upon returning to school that year, her fifth, she had been enveloped in an entangled, messy web of friendship. It was a nice little niche to be involved in, even if it did come in a very close second to her love of Crumple-Horned Snorkack expeditions (the most recent of which had been disappointedly unsuccessful). She didn't quite know what they had planned to do this day, Sunday, but she reckoned it would revolve around the library or noisy card games, whichever may've won out to be the day's enjoyment (and directly on just how studious Hermione Granger was feeling). 

            She pulled her cork necklace over her head (almost complete!) and chanced a glance out the window, feeling she would rather like to spend the day away from the castle. It was just the kind of day she enjoyed to spend outside—overcast and damp with the slightest of hints of rain in the air. She was sure that they'd understand, besides sometimes she thought the found her quite…mystifying, especially Hermione, who just couldn't seem to see past her textbooks. But Luna was working on her. Sticking her wand behind her left ear and her raven-feather quill on her right, she pushed open the door and left the dormitory, humming nicely under her breath. She kept getting odd looks as she wended to breakfast; today she was sure they were admiring her earrings, new, and nearly down to her elbows with sparkling stars.  Around and around the spinning staircase and into the entrance hall, who cared if it took longer to get to breakfast this way? It was so much fun, and Luna was sure that if her fellow Ravenclaws would simply slow down they'd realize what they were missing. She paused to chat with the roly-poly wizard in the portrait by the Great Hall's entranceway before actually crossing the threshold (and, to be truthful, he looked quite surprised about that). Light-footedly she pushed open the door and made her way to the Ravenclaw table and plunked down beside some third-years, both of whom moved slightly away from her, giggling behind their hands. Luna nimbly snitched two pieces of toast from the neat little pile on the platter before her and arranged them nicely on her plate before pulling butter and jam (two kinds: grape and strawberry) to her. Carefully spreading each condiment on a separate third of the toasted bread slices she ignored those across from her shoveling food into their mouths with inhuman speed. She was almost tempted to tell them to slow down but some people always seemed to take her advice the wrong way. 

            A quarter of an hour later, when she had nibbled her toast into nothingness, she got up to leave. Swinging her legs over the side of the bench, she looked at the Gryffindor table and immediately saw the glum faces of Ron and Hermione, who were lacking one of their tightly bound trio. Harry, it seemed, had lost his temper again and now, with low whispers, the two were trying to think of what to do next. Well, with no offense intended, Luna didn't much care for their plan of attack. They didn't understand and that led to the awkwardness that led Harry into solitude. Oh, well, best leave it to them and trust their day would not be ruined if she failed to rendezvous with them in their favorite nook of the castle, the Room of Requirement; the clouds were beckoning so convincingly as opposed to the oppressing stuffiness of the castle's interior. She stood on slippered feet and exited the hall again, floating to the main doors, thinking that she just might collect some scented blossom juice to attract Miniscule Midgiehummers. Yes, that was it, scented blossom juice; she could find that by the lake. And she pushed through the clinging dew of the high grass, towards the murky waves of the steely water. But before she could approach the shining yellow flowers, her protuberant eyes caught on something else, something more _substantial_. It seemed as though she had solved the mystery of the disappearing Harry Potter. She didn't hesitate to think, because thinking only muddled things, and instead redirected her route to intercept him, as today he looked particularly crestfallen. 

            "I didn't expect you to be the rain type, Harry Potter," she said dreamily, making him jump a little. She supposed he just wasn't paying attention.

            "Oh," he said, "hullo, Luna."  He didn't look like he wanted to go back inside…maybe he'd help her?

            Extending her vial that had been concealed in her robes in the case of an emergency, she said, "Would you like to help me collect blossom juice? It's the best thing to attract Minis—"

            He interrupted her, quite rudely in her opinion, but she never truly minded. "Sorry, Luna but I'd really just like to be—"

            "Alone?" she supplied, looking at him with wide eyes. "Well, I've often heard that expression but never fully understood it. Could you perhaps explain it to me?"

            He looked at her as though she was half-mad. "Well," he began slowly and grudgingly, "usually it means that someone doesn't want to…talk to anyone else." This statement was said as a question, as though he really didn't understand what she was playing at. 

            "Well, that's the literal meaning, of course," she explained with an infuriatingly patient air, while Harry looked quite disgruntled. "But I've always thought that when one wishes to be alone, he (or she) simply wants to dwell and dwelling makes things indistinct. Personally, I believe in the saying 'misery loves company', but only company that can relate."

            "Wha'?" Harry was clearly confused.

            "You've been pushing people away Harry like they were pesky Purple-Painted Fuzzy-stings."

            "I've not been pushing anyone—"

            "You have," stated Luna simply, "and it's quite natural. But they worry about you, Harry Potter." Harry, instead of answering, heaved a heavy sigh and swept his brilliant eyes to the far side of the lake, an insistent wind whipping through his hair. Luna could feel that it was time to grow serious, even if she didn't quite like it. She rather imagined the frivolity would anger Harry; surely it would've angered her if someone had used jokes to talk of her mother at the funeral. "You dream of him, Harry." It wasn't a question.

            Taking a deep breath that shuddered very slightly, Harry expended a one-word answer. "Yes."

            "I used to dream of my mother as well. But you can't dream, Harry, you have to remember. If you don't remember, it consumes you. If you don't remember, you die inside, and what's the use of living then?"

            "I do remember," Harry said, his face contorting funnily. "The bloody—"

            "Not the bad, Harry, never the bad, because then you forget the good!" She laid a spidery hand on his forearm, sensing the slight finch it caused. "I think I'll—what's the phrase? Ah, yes, I'll leave you alone now, Harry. The blossoms are calling." She skipped off in the direction of the west-most rock-overhanging, not noticing his emerald-eyed gaze follow her all the way there.

~

            Luna sat on the floor, keeping a well-trained eye on her vials of clear liquid, but so far there had been no surprising visitors. She was sure they were out there but where she could only speculate. On the wind, she supposed, and it wasn't flowing anywhere near her dorm window. She craned her head to glance at the funny glowing clock her daddy had sent her—eight-oh-six. Superb—she was allowed to stay out until nine (not that rules would much inhibit her). Just enough time to whip up to the South Tower (not the Astronomy Tower, mind, she didn't want to disturb the people who had made plans to meet) and try to observe some Miniscule Midgiehummers. Jumping to her feet, she pulled her robes over her pajamas (violet with neon green Crumple-Horned Snorkacks) and gingerly corked one vial before storing it lovingly in an inner-pocket. She slowly strode to her destination, stopping to pat Mrs. Norris on the head, who was quite friendly when you weren't breaking any rules. She lightly climbed all 372 stairs that led to the little alcove she was aiming for. She sat for maybe eight minutes, undisturbed, gazing unblinkingly at the little collection of juice she had place on the stone windowsill, content with the cool wind playing across her face. Quite suddenly, however, slight noises disrupted the quiet as someone ascended after her. She was staring at the door when he came in, which in turn caused his cheeks to flush a very slight pink.

            "Er, I saw you come up here," Harry said by way of explanation, skirting the issue of why he had climbed so many stairs to follow her. Luna, who had never placed much reliance in words, stared at him inquisitively, inviting him onwards through his eyes. When he said nothing she merely patted the ground beside her.

            "Sit down," she said. He complied, somewhat reluctantly, and nearly six feet from her. 

            "Luna," he said abruptly, "the veil."

            "Yes?" she encouraged at his slight pause.

            "What made you say they're still with us?" Harry said this all rushed, as though it was something he wanted to shove out into the air as quickly as possible. 

            "Well, you could hear them, couldn't you Harry?" she enquired confusedly, as though it should all make perfect sense.

            "Hearing them is different," he said doggedly. "It's not the same as being…well, with someone, I suppose."

            "You heard them, Harry," she said. "But did you listen?"

            "They're the same thing!" There was a definite edge of annoyance to his voice now, as though he regretted coming to her for any sort of answer. 

            "Not really, if you think about it." 

            "Luna, I can't… I can't feel anything. He's not with me." There was the tiniest, barely detectable break in his voice that suggested his real inner turmoil.

            "Of course he is, Harry. You're never without him, I know. He's like a Shadow-Gobbler—always adhered." She could see his hands shaking ever so slightly as they grasped his robes. She looked at him with wide eyes, sweeping her hair into her face. "They tell you that it gets easier with time Harry…but it doesn't really. It just gets different. You have to learn to heal or it's like a sucker, pulling the hope from you."

            "How can I heal?" Again, that small detection of a shake. "I can't feel him," he said jerkily.

            "I know where he is," she said in a lazy voice. "He's where everyone tells you he stays."

            "And where's that?" Harry had adverted his gaze just a little to the left.

            "Here, Harry," she said, scooting so as to cross the considerable gap between them. She placed a long-fingered hand on his chest, a bit to the right. "Here."  She lifted her head to see if he had gotten the point, her longish eyelashes not so far from the shine of his irises. 

            Harry jumped and grabbed his bag. "I have to go," he said, crossing the floor quickly. This time it was her who watched him leave.

~

            Over the next fortnight Luna thought of him often, though she assumed that it was in response to the enigma he had revealed himself to be. She quite wanted to help him, as everyday those eyes of his dulled just a little bit more.  He'd come when he wanted, she surmised, and no use prying or he'd clam into a ball and likely never talk about it again. 

            Autumn had quickly changed the Hogwarts' grounds into an explosion of oranges and reds ruffled by the cooling wind. It was arguably Luna's favorite season, though she was apt to change her mind. This weekend most were spending it in the quaint village of Hogsmeade, happily exchanging gold for chocolate and practical jokes.  Luna had ventured out of the gates this morning to replenish her diminishing stores of parchment rolls but shopping really _wasn't_ her cup of tea. Instead she had come back early against the throng of excited scholars, ready to spend her day in a different fashion, deciding what to do when the prominent trees by the greenhouses caught her eyes. After she retrieved a heavy sack from her trunk, she trundled back outside, looking rapturously at the small pieces of fruit dangling between the violent blend of leaves. Wrinkled green cranberries: her favorite scent, when dried and added to a homemade mixture.  It was a good climbing tree as well, with close branches. And she hadn't climbed for so long!

            Bag between her teeth, she hoisted her feet onto the lowest branch and began to scamper as a squirrel might, stopping among the highest reach of leaves, perched in a supporting crook. Hands now free, she began to pluck the ripest ones from their home, careful not to squish even one. So intent on what she was doing, she didn't notice someone sit directly under her until she accidentally dropped a berry. A messy mop of black hair was all she could really see, but it didn't take much to place it. If she believed in coincidences, she would've surely thought this was one, but she was sure everything happened for a reason. Just like the inattentive fruit that slipped from her hand and dropped neatly onto the head below her. With a jerk of his neck, Harry looked up at her perplexedly; she knew that she was quite a scene in her climbing clothes (yellow dress, frayed with age, and Muggle jeans below it).       

            "Luna?" he called, still sounding unsure as to why she was in the tree in the first place. "What're you _doing_ up there."

            Luna held out her bulging bag so he could see it. "Collecting wrinkled green cranberries," she said simply. "They're for my potpourri, you know." It was rather pleasant to hold a conversation from the tips of trees, but she could see Harry didn't quite like it, and her bag was near overflowing. So, tying the top of the sack off with a small bit of string, she climbed one-handed down the tree, falling nimbly to the right of Harry, who, as always when around her, looked uncomfortable. 

            "I saw you in Hogsmeade," she said as he backed away from her a little; she had landed a bit close. 

            "I was bored," he said defensively, avoiding her eye, suggesting that his reason wasn't his only reason for the early arrival. They sat in silence for a few minutes, with Luna staring at him and him staring anywhere besides Luna. 

            Suddenly, she broke the amicable silence. "What do you see, Harry Potter?"

            This question had him looking at her again, but it had clearly invoked thoughts about her sanity. "The grounds?" he offered as though giving an answer in class when he didn't know the answer.      

            Luna frowned slightly. "And… what color is it?"

            "Well, brown, I guess." He still sounded unsure of what she was asking.

            "That's what you're looking at, Harry Potter. What do you _see_?"

            "I don't get—" He stopped as Luna flopped to her back, gazing upwards at the sky.

            "Lie down?" she asked, swiveling her head so she could see his face as he looked around for somebody watching. Then, after making sure there was no one there, he slowly, hesitantly lied beside her, as though he felt it was the stupidest thing to do at that precise moment. "Point to the clouds," she instructed now, and moments later his hand slowly went up, a very dubious expression still on his face. 

            "Luna, what—" For she had reached up as well, putting her fingers over his to point with him

            "What do you see now?" she asked in her usual dreamy fashion. 

            He sighed, his fingers tense under hers. "Leaves."

            "That's what you're _looking_ at, Harry," she repeated. "What do you see?" 

            "All I see are leaves and a bit of sky"

            "Do you want to know what I see, Harry?" she breathed. "I see beauty. I see cooperation. But I also see life preparing for death. But understand them, Harry! The leaves are _happy_ about it! They've changed to such brilliant colors. They know they are going to die, and they accept it. They do not mourn when their partner dies before them but only know that they will follow sooner or later." At some point in her explanation, her hand had relaxed and melded into his. He didn't notice when it happened but when she stopped talking something in his hand tightened and he pulled away.

            "Why does it bother you, Harry?" She propped herself up on one grass-stained elbow to look closer at him and when she had done so, he looked half ready to get up and leave.

            "What bothers me?" he asked carefully, again avoiding her eyes. 

            "Closeness. A touch."  He remained silent, his stare flicking to hers. She got a little closer and answered her own question. "Because it's not normal for you, is it? People never were close to you when you were young."

            Two seconds passed before she heard the quietest of answers. "No."

            Without thinking, without asking, and closer still, she placed her finger on his face, tracing the contour of his expression. "Your face is sharply shaped, Harry," she observed. "There are so many rough angles." Her finger brushed over his scar, his cheekbone; all the while he looked extremely discomforted. "You've seen so much. But your eyes…they're your life. You can't hide them, in all their humanistic glory." She trailed off, very close now as she stared into emerald depths.

            And all of a sudden, he kissed her.

            One moment he was just lying their under her, the next he had come upwards and touched his lips to hers. Instinctively, Luna's eyes fluttered shut—it felt so _good, _so warm and sweet and gentle. After a few seconds he broke away, and she saw the reality return to his eyes, could see that he was afraid he'd upset her. Well it was quite the opposite, but he rolled out from under her and made to get up.

            "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean—"

            "You're really not used to it, are you?" she asked. "It makes you so uncomfortable to listen to something other than your brain." He looked at her unmoving, as if he couldn't think of what to say. After a few moments she said, "That was quite nice, actually. Can we do it again?"

~

End


	2. Chapter Two

Quite Nice: Chapter Two

I don't own Harry Potter

A/n: I never thought I'd actually write more to this, but it's the favorite thing I've written thus far and this plot line was annoying the crap out of me. It's not a bad thing that a lot of people seemed to like it as well. Reviews inspire me, so please be little dears and tell me what you think of the second part by clicking on the review button down at the bottom of the page. Oh, by the way, this chapter contains a bit of Spanish, spoken by fairies. I apologize if it's not correct Spanish, but I tried. Translations are at the end of the chapter.

Luna was not a stranger to feeling weirdly; in fact, most of her life revolved around the oddities of human life, and nothing could really surprise her anymore. In retrospect, she could appreciate that the most recent recreation of the banality of human chemistry was perhaps one of her most normal experiences. When her father had deemed her old enough for his "talk", as it was called, two years ago, he called this particular act "a common interaction in the courtship of two persons." She could remember asking him why people brushed lips—there were so many things (like noses!) that could get in the way—when you could have something more convenient, like knees. Now, when it mattered most for her to know why, she could no longer recall what her father had responded with. She wished that he wasn't on an expedition exploring for that sniggle-tailed quarle with a magazine patron so she could send him an owl and ask him why her knees had been so unstable after Harry had parted abruptly, saying something about being caught before walking briskly up to the castle doors, his face a bright red beacon. The harder she thought on it, the harder it was to recreate the details, and Luna was quite ready for some more research in this particular field.

Yet, as outgoing as she may be, she wasn't really sure if it was appropriate to go and ask Harry for help solve this mystery of human interaction. She had heard the idle gossiping of the other girls in her dormitory, and she knew that they considered this a "big step", whatever that was. The others seemed to think that this act was particularly important, and that was enough to make Luna wary of approaching the subject with her friend. She really didn't have very many of them and was unwilling to estrange one of the few she had managed to make in her four years at school. Still, she wondered about the strange way she felt as his lips had been upon hers, soft and pliant. If she thought really hard, she could feel the light touch of his fingertips on her cheek, the brushing of the other one in her hair.

By the time she decided to give up on trying to create an explanation for the tingling of her nerves, the distant roar of many loud Ravenclaw voices indicated the return of a number of her classmates to the common room. Dinner was fast approaching, and Luna, anticipating the chill in the castle when darkness fell, began searching in her trunk for her favorite sweater, the neon orange one that flashed random sentences in bright yellow wording. It was only then that she noticed the missing jar of sugar stars. Slowly, she began to shift her clothing about, looking for the innocuous glass container, yet she knew that it was indeed missing. Sighing heavily, she sank unto her bed. It had taken at least a month to perfect the recipe to the way it had to be to attract las hadas del azúcar, funny little Spanish sprites that had affinities towards match-making. They were only attracted by their namesake, only when it was prepared in a precise way, and only every seven years. Luna had seen them only once in a wooded area by her house when she was eight and she fervently desired to see them again.

But it was sensible to concur that the jar of her sugar stars wouldn't appear until June, seven months too late. If she was the confrontational sort, she could go to her dorm-mates and politely ask for them to return it. If it would cause any good, she would do it, but she knew that they would deny it, and with no proof, she had nothing substantial to rely on. With a slight shake of her head, she resigned herself to another seven year wait and got dressed for dinner before walking down to the Great Hall, twirling merrily at every corner.

The following day, a Monday, dawned brightly, influencing much of the students to spend their afternoon break outside, enjoying the last bit of fair weather before the harshness of a Scottish winter blew in. Harry was among those who wandered idly, along as he had done yesterday. Ron and Hermione, as far as he knew, were still in the common room, completing yesterday's neglected homework (at Hermione's insistence, no doubt) and most likely discussing what they should do with him. _Wouldn't want to deprive them of time to decide how to make me less reclusive_, Harry thought nastily before feeling a stab of guilt. Technically, he could appreciate that their concern was simply a byproduct of their friendship, yet they didn't quite understand that sometimes human company seemed to stifle him and all he really needed was some time to think. _Weren't thinking too much yesterday were you? _the snide voice in the back of his head interjected. _Too busy snogging Loony Lovegood_. Harry shook his head swiftly, willing the annoying thought to exit his brain immediately, earning some odd stares in the process. He hadn't even begun to analyze what exactly had influenced him to kiss Luna under that tree yesterday. Flopping moodily against a tree, he swept his gaze sporadically across the grounds, having to clear his mind several times of the image of a slight, protuberantly-eyed blonde girl that had a propensity to enter his thoughts unbidden when he lost concentration.

Luna Lovegood, though! Now that he knew who she was, he couldn't see how he could've missed her before. She was easily noticeable in the crowd of the hundreds of Hogwarts students, always acting differently than those around her. She was the bane of many jokes and the topic of a lot of gossip. It was hard to explain why he had been so drawn to her under the tree, why she wouldn't completely leave his mind.

So engrossed was he in trying to understand just what teenage hormonal imbalance had led him to such actions, he failed to notice the small crowd of fifth-years that had converged on the other side of the tree he was leaning against. However, even though he was hidden behind the wide trunk, and therefore not noticed by the girls behind him, he could still hear them. It was hard to concentrate through their meaningless chit-chat, and he was about to re-locate to a quieter spot in which to brood when he heard a snippet of their conversation.

"Really, I seriously want to know who dropped Loony on her head when she was a baby," one adolescent laughed as the others giggled around her. Something clenched in Harry's stomach as he settled stiffly against the tree, trying to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Have you heard the rubbish she spouts about those stupid animals her father's trying to find? How old is she, still believing in fairy-tales?" This provoked another round of giggling that made Harry unconsciously curl his hands into fists.

"Look at what I filched from her trunk!" one crowed triumphantly. "She's been babbling about attracting some fictional character with these for months! What an idiot! I bet she was going to go outside at four in the morning into the Forbidden Forest to try and get these things to come to her. And with what? Sprinkles!" Harry pushed himself up from sitting position and whirled around. He stalked around the tree and found himself staring at a gaggle of Ravenclaws.

"Give it back," he said lowly, causing a number of heads to snap up. He could see the jar in the tallest girl's hands, half full with small, multi-colored particles.

She paled slightly before saying, "Give what back? This? This is mine."

Harry scowled deeply. "I'm not deaf," he snapped. "Give it here."

The Ravenclaw tutted. "Fine, it's not mine. But don't tell me you believe the trash she spreads around? Why encourage her?"

"Even if you don't believe what she says, it doesn't give you the right to take her stuff." He moved closer to her and motioned to the jar. "Give it to me."

She handed it over with a huff. "Fine, take it." Snatching it from her hands, he stalked off angrily. He moved closer to the school, scanning the random groups of black-clad students for a glimpse of long blonde hair or for a pair of large blue eyes. He was so intent on looking for her that she caused him to jump when she appeared in front of him.

"Wherever did you find my jar of sugar stars?" she asked excitedly, taking it from his right hand.

"From a group of Ravenclaws," he said, uncomfortably aware that the last time she had been this close to him, he had been kissing her. "I think they took it from your trunk."

Yes, that would make sense, wouldn't it?" She smiled happily up at him. "I rather thought that they had taken it, but you never can be sure, can you?"

"You shouldn't let them get away with it," he said, taking an inadvertent step backwards.

"If I don't, they'll only endeavor to do something more serious to me, and I don't really mind the absence of my belongings, as long as they're returned at the end of the year, although it is rather bothersome to keep an inventory. No matter, anyway. Thank you very much for finding this, by the way. It's taken a long time to perfect my sugar stars, and I can only attract las hadas del azúcar tonight. I haven't seen them since I was eight, and I rather hoped to catch sight of them again. You should come with me! They really are fascinating creatures." She tapered off and looked at him expectantly. After a few moments, she said, "Well, do you?"

"Do I what?" Harry asked, somewhat dazed.

"Want to come with me tonight to see them?"

"I, ah, guess so," he said without really thinking.

"Stupendous!" she said. "Meet me at the edge of the Forbidden Forest at twelve thirty tonight. Oh, and Harry, you'd better be careful and wear that interesting cloak of yours." With that said, she skipped off up the steps to the Great Hall, leaving Harry to realize that he'd just agreed to meet her at the edge of a forbidden area three and a half hours after curfew.

Quietly, Harry emerged from his four-poster bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He had to meet Luna in forty-five minutes, though at the moment he was considering sending an owl to tell her that he didn't feel up to making it. But that meant going up to the owlery, which was almost as far away as the grounds and what was the point in that? Sighing lightly, he opened his trunk and donned his Invisibility Cloak, activating the Marauders' Map as he descended the staircase into the Gryffindor common room.

The journey through the castle was fairly uneventful, though Harry had to take the long way to avoid Snape, who was patrolling on of the main corridors that led to the Entrance Hall. Honestly, did that man ever sleep? Harry made his way swiftly across the dewy grass towards the black horizon that was the Forbidden Forrest, hoping that Luna was somewhere noticeable, because he was not going to wander around the perimeter of the forest in his wet trainers. He found her easily enough, though, as she was standing fairly close to Hagrid's Hut. Thankfully, Hagrid was, according to the map, unmoving in his house.

"Good evening, Harry," Luna said as he approached, sounding far too bright than someone should at nearly one in the morning.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn.

"Las hadas del azúcar." Luna returned promptly before turning on her heel and heading briskly into the forest, causing Harry to take three long strides to catch up to her.

"And these are…?"

"Roughly, it translates to 'the fairies of sugar'. They appear as chubby Spanish matriarchs and quite like matching up prospective couples." She fought her way through the thick foliage of the forest, straying from the beaten path.

"Are you sure that this is safe, Luna?" Harry asked as a branch scratched his left cheek.

"Fairly certain," she returned. "We have to go rather deep into the forest before we'll be able to stop and try to coax them out of their hiding place."

"Luna…are you quite sure these things exist?"

"Of course," she said, her voice losing a bit of its dreamy quality. "I've seen them before." To tell the truth, Harry rather doubted her, but was unwilling to make her angry. He lapsed into silence and so did she, and they walked for another twenty minutes until they found themselves at a small clearing deep inside the forest. Luna dug inside her robes and extracted her jar, deftly unscrewing it. "Form a cup with your hands," she ordered lightly and Harry complied. She poured a copious amount of the stars into his palms. "Now spread them around," she encouraged, taking some stars for herself.

Harry sprinkled some on the ground, feeling increasingly stupid with each passing moment. When he had exhausted his amount of stars, he met her in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by little candy sprinkles, and there they stood for a good twenty moments. He was just about to suggest they turn back when he heard a little voice exclaim, "Mira, mira! Comida!" Amazed, Harry saw a little woman materialize out of thin air and descend upon the sugar stars, quickly followed by ten others, which quickly became twenty. Harry had to keep rubbing his eyes to make sure he was actually awake, as Luna looked on ecstatically beside him.

It took a couple of minutes before one looked up. "Mira! Dos seres humanos!"

"Un chico y una chica!"

"Deben ser novios, no?" The whole of them erupted into giggles.

Harry leaned closer to Luna. "What are they talking in?"

"Spanish. They originate from Spain, you know."

"Ah." Harry turned his attention to the little Spanish women, suddenly noticing that they had stopped eating and had decided to fly closer to him and Luna.

"Sí, yo estoy de acuerda," one said seriously.

"They're getting closer, Luna," Harry said lowly, looking at the fairies with some trepidation.

"Oh, dear," Luna said.

"What, they're not dangerous, are they?" Harry reached slowly into the pocket of his robes, searching for his wand. One was getting perilously close.

"Not exactly," she whispered.

The fairy closest to Harry poked him in the chest. "Bese Usted a muchacha!" it demanded. A cacophony of "sí's" followed.

"What do they want, Luna? What are they saying?"

"Oh, um, I really must say that I'm quite sorry, Harry. I didn't consider this." She looked fairly apologetic.

"Consider what, Luna?!"

"Well, they like to match people up. I think they're telling you to…well, telling you to kiss me, actually."

"Perfect," Harry said darkly. "Fairies are involving themselves in my business. Just perfect."

The one closest to him flew closer, an expression of consternation on her face. She poked him harder, shocking him with her tiny finger. "Bese Usted a muchacha!"

"Ow!" exclaimed Harry, annoyed. "That hurt!" Two more shocked him, repeating the phrase. Next to him, three of them were poking Luna, shrilly saying, "Bese Usted a muchacho!"

"Now, really," she was saying to them, "stop that! We're friends!…um, nosotros somos amigos!"

"No me importa," one said, shocking her again. "Bese Usted a muchacho!"

Harry brought his wand out and waved it, but it didn't seem to phase the five fairies that we continually shocking him. He was just about to try stunning them when Luna stopped him. "They won't—ow!—like that, Harry."

"Then how do I stop them!?"

"I'm not sure, apart from the obvious, that is."

Harry swore quietly as another one approached and tried to smack it, earning a particularly big shock. "Let's run for it!" Harry yelled.

"I'm not sure that will work—" Luna said, but it was too late. Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the forest, hopefully heading back towards the castle. Unfortunately, the fairies were persistent and renewed their shocking on the retreating backs of their hapless subjects.

"What now?" Harry yelled behind him as one hit him right between his shoulder blades. "Are they going to follow us all the way back to the bloody castle?"

"I can't really say," Luna said loudly before turning herself to address the fairy attacking her elbow. "You should really consider stopping that before you make me angry. Ow! Now, come on, please, that really does sting."

"Enough," Harry roared, stopping abruptly, which caused Luna to run into him. His back was going numb, and he was thoroughly annoyed at the little women who were pursuing him so doggedly. If kissing Luna was the only thing that was going to stop them…well he'd done it before, hadn't he? It was a far cry better than explaining to the boys in his dormitory why a little Spanish lady had followed him to his bed. He pulled Luna towards him and tilted her chin up rather roughly. She looked at him with wide eyes that he could barely see through the dark of the forest. Quickly, he lowered his lips to her, and the shocks stopped immediately. He had barely brushed her lips with a chaste kiss before withdrawing.

"No, no, no," the fairy closest to him shrieked. "Un beso major que eso!" She shocked him again.

"I kissed her," Harry shouted. Damn these stupid, interfering fairies!

"Mejor, mejor!"

Harry turned to Luna again. "What does that mean?!"

"Better, I think, but my Spanish is a bit rusty." Harry cursed again and touched his lips to hers. This time, he held it for a longer time, her lips conforming against his. He broke away again, which elicited another round of "mejor's" from the little women.

"I don't think you're doing it how they like it," Luna supplied in a helpful tone.

"You do it then!" Harry said, frustrated that his inexperienced kissing technique was being critiqued by a bunch of sugar loving fairies.

"I guess I could try." She put her hand lightly behind his neck and pulled his face towards hers, meeting his lips with hers for the third time in the past minute. Later on, Harry would fail to remember what she did with her lips, or even what was happening outside of that moment. It was similar to Cho's, yet entirely different, and he would be able to recall only snippets of it: how her eyes had fluttered shut, and so had his, the way he had pulled her closer to him. She seemed to know what she was doing and not know at the same exact time, experimenting with moving her lips against his. They broke softly, leaving Harry somewhat dazed. The fairies were smiling and clapping and one close to Luna patted her on the shoulder and said, "Muchachos adolescentes! Puedan ser ignorantes con cosas como esto, no?" Luna smiled.

"I think they'll let us go now, Harry," she said.

"Thank God" Harry muttered, and he pulled her through the rough foliage, using the point me spell to find his way through the forest. When they left, Harry found his Invisibility Cloak, which he had hidden by Hagrid's Hut and reactivated the map.

"I really am sorry, Harry," Luna said as they walked towards the castle. "It never occurred to me that they might try to match us up. It didn't happen last time, but I _was_ with my father, so I guess they wouldn't."

If it had been any other girl, Harry was sure he'd think he'd been taken advantage of. Yet, he knew instinctively that Luna was not inherently manipulative. She had simply wanted to share her outing with him and had failed to think through the consequences. "It's okay," he said, and he meant it. "Here, I'll take you to the Ravenclaw common room, if you show me where it is."

"It's not really necessary; I can find it on my own."

"No sense in getting you in trouble. Here." He pulled the cloak over the two of them. She was small enough to fit under it with him, but the closeness of it almost made Harry blush. She led him through the corridors with whispers, leading him to her dormitory. They only had one tight spot in which Filch appeared suddenly in front of them, and Harry had to pull her close to him to leave the caretaker leeway to pass, causing him to really blush this time as he felt her body against his.

"It's just up the hall, now," she said. "I'll be fine from here. Thank you muchly for helping me back and accompanying me into the forest."

"It's okay." After a moment of deliberation, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"Good night," she said before emerging from under the cloak, looking at him one last time before flouncing around the corner.

End of chapter

Spanish translations:

mira: look

comida: food

dos seres humanos: two human beings

un chico y una chica: a girl and a boy

deben ser novios, no?: they should be boyfriend/girlfriend, no?

sí, yo estoy de acuerda: yes, I am in agreement

bese Usted a muchacha!: kiss the girl!

bese Usted a muchacha!: kiss the boy!

nosotros somos amigos: we are friends

no me importa: I don't care

un beso major que eso: a better kiss than that

mejor: better

Muchachos adolescentes! Puedan ser ignorantes con cosas como esto, no?: Adolescent boys. They can be ignorant about things like this, no?

Before ending, I must say that I'm not trying to show some sort of cliché or be insulting to Spanish people. I made the annoying match-making fairies Spanish because I can somewhat speak it, and online translators suck. That's the only reason, end of story. Why use a different language in the first place, you ask? Because it's funny to think of Harry being told to kiss a girl by someone he can't understand.


	3. Chapter 3

Quite Nice Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I receiving any sort of profit from this story.

A/N: This chapter is decidedly _not_ quite nice. Also, I know that it's been a long time since the last update (almost two years!), but in my defense, I never intended this to be a continuing piece of fiction. Generally, I just take the inspiration and go with it. I actually do have an idea for another chapter, but I don't know when I'll find time to sit down and write it. To anyone who's still reading this, drop me a review and tell me how you like the deviation of style in this chapter. This chapter definitely came from the new picture of Luna that was just released from the fifth movie (which comes out on my birthday!), and I'm really excited about seeing her on the big screen—though I could do without Daniel's horrid haircut. Oh, and the "HJP" signity a change in scene, because the formatting here is being a bitch.

HJP

Delicately, Luna plucked the silver robes from her wardrobe, and stared at them in a split-second of indecision, almost as if she were gauging their worth. As a slow smile spread across her face, she placed the garment onto her four-poster bed and shifted her shoulders so her black school robes could flutter to the floor. It was her first technical date, this Christmas party of Professor Slughorn's, although considering the "just friends" stipulation, it wasn't really anything that could or would resemble something in the romance novels she read from time to time. She took her time pulling her dress-robes over her arms, toying with the idea of weaving garland into her hair to account for the festive holiday spirit. Picking up a silver bracelet from her bedside table, she trailed it along her wrist and snapped the clasp shut, taking a second to admire the way it glittered in the candlelight. Looking in the mirror one last time, she smoothed an errant strand of hair and proceeded to glide down the steps into the Ravenclaw common room. She wended her way through the chairs, not noticing the slightly condescending stares (and accompanying whispers) she was receiving from her house-mates.

After climbing out of the portrait entrance, Luna stared wistfully at a largish painting that hid her favorite way to the Entrance Hall, but vetoed the urge to follow it; she was late as it was. She made her way through the straggling crowds in the hallway and slowly wound her way into the crowd that was gathering outside the Great Hall. She stood still in the middle of the room, just barely registering the awful look Romilda Vane was blatantly gifting her with, and tried to stand on her tiptoes to spot Harry. She was standing for only a couple of seconds before she heard someone call her name through the crowd.

"Luna! Hey—ow, watch it, Smith, that was my foot—Luna, over here!" Luna leveled her gaze to find Ginny trying to shove her way through the accumulating crowd to get to her.

"Hello, Ginny," Luna said lightly when the Weasley girl had finally made it over. "There are quite a lot of people here, aren't there?"

"For no reason, too; most of them aren't allowed to go to the party at all," Ginny said exasperatedly, as she lightly touched her hair, trying to gauge if it had become mussed through her exertions. "Harry'll be down soon, I expect. But, here, do you mind if I fix your hair a little? It's a bit, erm…wild." Luna nodded slowly and within twenty seconds, her stylized curls cascaded off of the top of her head and down her back. Ginny used her wand to sever Luna's holly necklace and stowed it in an inside pocket of her robes, placing her wand with it.

"There, that's better, Harry won't be able to look away from you," Ginny said confidently, although Luna had the distinct feeling that she was looking a lot less ready for a Christmas party. "Listen, I've got to go meet Dean—I'll see you later, Luna!" Luna didn't have time for a goodbye as Ginny ploughed back into the throng, and she was just about to try and re-style her hair blindly when she spotted Harry. He caught her eye and found his way to her.

"Hi," he said. "Shall we get going then?"

"Oh, yes," she said, and he led her into Slughorn's highly decorated office.

HJP

The party was going swimmingly, in Luna's opinion. Harry had gotten her an introduction to the most fascinating people (though she wasn't sure if she was fond of the man in the corner giving her a thoroughly hungry look), and Professor Trelawney was assuredly fascinated with the information she had on the Rotfang Conspiracy—risky business, the Aurors caught up with dental disease, and no one else had believed it, either, which was a shame. She barely acknowledged Harry's departure to the men's room, but she certainly noticed when he came back looking as though he had just found out something important. She disengaged her conversation from Trelawney rather ungracefully, and as the woman left (muttering something about sherry and palmistry), Luna turned to Harry, and said, "You look all a bother. Is something wrong?"

"What?" he queried distractedly. "Oh, no, nothing's the matter. You want something to drink?" He left without an answer, which was rather rude, because she really did want a gillywater, and perhaps a cream puff, from the refreshments table. Her eyes trailed his back as he wandered through the crowd, looking for someone, before he gave up, got two glasses of butterbeer, and brought them back. She accepted hers ungraciously and took a small sip when he returned. He continued to scan the crowd, taking random gulps of his butterbeer and hardly paying Luna any mind. Spotting the Fat Friar in the crowd, she left Harry without a word to talk to the fun-loving ghost. Harry didn't even seem to care that she left, as she gave him a sidelong glance, and Luna decided that dating was _not_ like anything in any romance novel she'd ever read (even a just-friends date, which usually ended up as a not-just-friends-date in the books she perused). The Fat Friar delivered some gossip, which she took in half-heartedly, wondering what exactly was going through Harry's mind, about things, about _her_. He hadn't said a word about their encounter with the Spanish sugar fairies, and that was over two months ago. She felt an unfamiliar tightening in her stomach that she associated with a feeling she rarely felt—annoyance. She took two deep breaths as the Fat Friar left to pursue a conversation with Nearly Headless Nick and led herself back to Harry, who now looked as though he was deeply in thought.

"It's getting quite late, isn't it?" she intoned airily. "I think I ought to head up to my room. I still have to finish knitting a scarf I intend to give to my father for Christmas."

"I'll walk you back up," he said, looking at her for the first time in an hour.

"No, that's quite all right," she replied. "You haven't really been paying attention to me tonight, and I can manage on my own, thank you." She said this without a trace of resentment or anger, but Harry still had the good graces to look guilty.

"It's no problem," he said, and they left the room together, Harry pulling her quickly out of the way of an impending Slughorn and into the dank hallway. They were both silent as they made their way to the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, not encountering anyone as their footsteps echoed on the stone floors. Luna could appreciate companionable silences, but the one she was experiencing at that moment seemed to encompass the entire space around her until she could barely breathe and wished for a topic, anything to talk about, to come to mind. She had never had a problem like this before—never felt compelled to fill a silence, or to restrain herself from saying things, and she wondered frantically if she had come down with the silence-inducing measles, her father had written about in the Quibbler earlier that month before concluding that it was an impossibility, because she currently had no green spots on her forearm (though she did check thoroughly, just to be sure, just to find an explanation for this inexplicable awkwardness that could not be dispelled). They stopped in front of the common room entrance, and Harry avoided her eyes, scuffing his foot on the ground.

"Well," Luna said, "I had an almost-enjoyable time, so thank you for inviting me. It was nice to feel included. Have a Happy Christmas, won't you?" She turned to give the password to enter the Ravenclaw dorms, but before she could say anything, Harry spoke.

"Listen, I'm…sorry, you know, about not paying attention to you, but something happened, and I can't really tell you."

"You needn't tell me anything," Luna said as she turned to face him. "I rather understand." She ran her tongue over her lips to wet them and watched curiously as Harry's face flushed. "Are you quite all right, Harry?" she asked concernedly. "You're awfully red in the face." She touched his wrist and looked into his eyes, finding something indiscernible glimmering in the green depths of his irises.

"I'm fine, Luna," he said faintly.

"Are you sure?" she responded, stepping on her tiptoes so she could stare more intently at his pink face. She removed her hand from his wrist and placed it on his cheek, gauging the temperature. "You're also warm—perhaps Madame Pomfrey could help? Or some kipper grease?" She had gotten almost uncomfortably close, checking for a sign of one of the flushed-face diseases her father had told her about, and as she said the last few words, her lips had just barely brushed against his cheek. All of a sudden, his hand had seized her wrist, his fingers had brushed against her waist, and his lips met hers as he pushed her against the wall.

This was different than the times before. It wasn't a soft meeting of lips underneath a tree, nor a coerced kiss for the amusement of fairies. It was harsh and hungry and undignified, and Luna had hardly expected it. Harry's hand had bunched up the clothing at her waist, his hand had entangled itself in her hair, and the pressure of his lips had caused hers to part. His tongue touched hers, tentatively at first, then more boldly, and Luna thought she wouldn't mind if she could do this forever. It seemed to last an eternity and a second at the same time, and if she didn't have the wall supporting her back and Harry supporting her front, Luna was sure her knees would've collapsed, causing her to fall to the floor.

With one last swirl of his tongue, Harry pushed himself away, and Luna looked at him, half-confusedly, half contentedly. She stepped forward unsteadily, ready to engage in another kiss, and Harry stepped just as unsteadily. Chest heaving, he said, "We shouldn't do this anymore." Luna saw the briefest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the faintest suggestion of unadulterated guilt in the line of his mouth, before he turned and walked briskly down the hall, his shoes clicking authoritatively on the stone.

Luna stood against the wall, lips swollen, short of breath, tears prickling at her eyes feeling for the first time in six years as though someone had taken her heart and shattered it against the flagstone.

HJP

To Be Continued (soon, I hope)


End file.
